


Give me my sin again

by ObliObla



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Season/Series 04, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 16:31:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20410846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla
Summary: She kisses him with all her desperation





	Give me my sin again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arlome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlome/gifts).

She kisses him with all her desperation, and his own urgency sparks fire in her blood, his hand on her hip, his fingers clenched in her hair. She doesn’t know how much time they might have, and some part of her whispers to calm, to slow, to savor this. To not break the stillness that’s almost like a dream. But she can’t, can’t stop—can hardly bear when they break apart, even if it’s only by an inch.

She breathes hotly into his mouth, and he pants his desire in return. She brushes her nose against his, and he chuckles, groans, and clings more tightly to her. He seems to be trying to speak, but the words have been stolen from him, from her, and their lips meet again with a tenderness that smooths the roughness, that thrums in her veins with a pleasurable ache.

She is still dressed, he is still dressed, and she finds it, suddenly, intolerable. She can feel his heat burning against her palms when she tears through his clothes. And when she kisses him again, it is a kiss used in prayer, and she has finally found the grace in his eyes.

His shirt is still half-buttoned, her jeans clinging to her calves when he kneels, trails his fingertips down her spine, over her thighs, and tastes her. Her breath catches in her throat, and her eyes slip closed. Her fingers find his curls as he presses closer, and she kicks the denim off her legs to cross her ankles behind his back.

And he is all the things he promised, a patient hand to draw out her pleasure, and she leans back, her fingers slipping from his head to splay against her belly, to feel the muscles contract with his efforts. There is lightning arcing along her nerves, thunder rumbling beneath, making her shudder, and moan, and arch her back.

He presses his fingers to her heat, and she shivers as he reaches deep, finding every place that unravels her. He holds her there, on the edge, and her hips jerk into him, muscles taut and ready, _beyond_ ready. He hums, stoking the flames until she is lost to torridity, hollowed yet filled anew with holy dew. And she cries, and shakes, and comes undone.

And he is there to touch her lips, to meet the salt that has gathered there with his own, with _her_ own. He yanks his shirt from his arms, and they are together, skin to skin, heartbeat intertwining with heartbeat. She aches where they touch, but the ache is strongest where she is left bereft, and she reaches for him.

He presses his forehead against hers and seems to want to speak, but she can’t allow him to shatter the careful quiet of this moment. She licks against his teeth and kisses the words from his sainted lips as he groans into her mouth. She touches him, takes him, and his eyes fall shut. She guides him, and he goes willingly, taking her hips in his hands, letting them both down onto satin and softness.

When he breaks against her she gasps, overcome, and clings to him as a rock in a tempest tossed sea. Everything has been so insubstantial, so fleeting, but he is solid and warm and _here_. They move together more harshly than she intended, but she still can’t make herself slow, can’t find a source of gentleness beneath her all-consuming desire. And she feels herself climbing far too quickly.

But she can’t stop. She can’t stop. She can’t—

_Oh._

She tightens around him, and there is nothing left in the cosmos but them, all the fires of the universe gone cold but the one they make between themselves. He cries out, then, as she slowly drifts down, and it’s a curse, a prayer—is every light he put in the sky, every feather in his wings—is nearly her name…

_Chloe._

She wakes. And there is silence.

And she is alone.


End file.
